Posts by RICK C-137

RICK SANCHEZ

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"No, three bags for one medium hooked blade. That's the exchange. That's the price." Rick said, holding onto the new blade, refusing to hand it over.

The deal had went like this: if Scarclanners brought Rick drugs, or alcohol, then Rick gave them his modified weapons. At the same rate, Rick would be.... persuasive, so long as Chemical held hostage the fabric that belonged to him.

Of course, he figured, this would bite him in the ass, later. Probably when the takeover was over. But for now? Rick was surviving. Rick was making it rain weed, and he didn't have a problem with it.

And today was his lucky day- a lighter, and two bags of weed. Rick, in turn, handed over one of the blades with multiple hooks, and sent the last two costumers away. He figured, he be tried for treason for this, trading with the enemy, but he hadn't three pounds of crack now. So, whatever.

At least he didn't tell them the new blades were made of iron.

RICK SANCHEZ

[font=georgia]"Business." The word is cold cut and concise, as Rick mentally counts his profits.

"Your emo leader or whoever the fuck has something that belongs to me." He didn't bother telling them about the fabric. It was too important to him. Rick didn't like to open up. Last time he did that, he friend died.

Stupid Tammy.

"So we made a deal. I make weapons, in exchange for drugs. He gives my shit back when this is over with." He explains, turning to his black box of profits, and depositing the drugs. "I don't see a problem with it."

RICK SANCHEZ

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"Your kids aren't here right now. And if they were, do you honestly think I would give a fuck?" Development wise, as long as kids I didn't have this until they were adults, they were fine, but wasn't Rick's fault if they got stoned.

"Sasha. I'm not getting involved with the Cartel. I'm getting involved with Scarclan because they're holding my shit hostage." Rick said, taking the flask out of his coat and taking a swig. "If it wasn't for the camp on lockdown and my shit being held hostage, do you think I would be here?"

RICK SANCHEZ

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Rick glares at Sasha- his teeth instinctively baring. "I don't give a fuck about your stupid children Sasha. If you wanna kill me, be my guest. I want to die." He spits, freezing as he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and locks his gaze on the panther's tail. His first thought, out of past experience, Is he gonna rape me with that? and Rick squirms when the tail gets close to him- it rifles through his coat and Rick knows what it snags on.

The yellow fabric from his Morty's shirt is taken away from him, and Rick becomes visibly angry. "That's mine, that's what the fuck that is!" Rick yells, moving to get up, and face the panther.

// not sure if he's being held down or not

RICK SANCHEZ

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At the mention of slavery, Rick drops his flask. It's not surprise or out of some mind blowing discovery- it's a flashback, as he hears Morty's voice in the back of his head.
"That's slavery, Rick."

"It's society." He says, bending down to pick his flask back up. "We work for each other. We work against each other. We claim houses. We get married and make children that replace us when we get too old to make due." Rick recalls saying something similar to Morty, but reapplied it here.

"That just sounds like slavery with extra steps."
"We are all slaves to something." Shit, he was way to sober to be doing this philosophy bullcrap right to now.

"Do you not see the hypocrisy here, Rick?"
He mumbles a, 'shut up, Morty,' under his breath, and takes several gulps out of his flask, until he finds it empty.

Not even a small buzz.

"I don't have much of a choice." He admits, somewhat deflating, his hunched over form counting his profits for the second time and then counting the leftover inventory. "I get it back when they- they leave. That's the agreement."

RICK SANCHEZ

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Rick would hang down from the trees, revealing himself to the creature. His white labcoat and blue tipped fur caused him to stand out against the forest backdrop, and bloodshot eyes would focus on the dude. "Hey there, dude...." He would slur, staring at him. Was Rick high and smelled like alcohol? Probably. It was all that kept him from killing Sasha, honestly.

RICK SANCHEZ

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"Took you long enough." Rick spat, laying on his back on the branch. "Sasha." Hazy, drunken eyes set on the feline. Alright, Sanchez, wake up, let's go. He wiped his face, rubbing his eyes and removing the drool. "Sasha. Listen," He blinked, slowly coming down from the tree and leaning back on the trunk. "Most of that... week or whatever, its kinda fuzzy, I'll be honest, I was kinda down most of the time." Rick drank to forget, and Thunderclan wasn't his problem. "You pointed out how we brought this on ourselves. so for once, just shut your fucking mouth."

He turned, looking at the leader. "Might as well cuff me too, buddy. I sold weapons to them." Rick didn't entirely mind, on that count. He had his fabric back. No Morty, but a reminder of him.

RICK SANCHEZ

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"Now hold up here." Rick said, dropping down, and hanging off one of the tree branches, looking at the stranger. "There's a lot of cats around here. Ya gotta be more specific." The gibbon pointed out, holding onto the branch.

"Rick Sanchez. Local Coot." He said, pulling the flask from his labcoat.